by Linda Skye
She rose to her knees on the bench and pulled him toward her so that he stood over her. When she stood up, she was a head taller than he was. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pulled his head back and treated him to a searing kiss, her tongue commanding his. Then she pushed him down by the shoulders so that he was sitting on the bench in front of her. Flipping her hair over one shoulder, she stepped down and straddled his hips, gently positioning the head of his shaft at her opening. She lowered her mouth to his ear and nipped at his lobe.
“Now, don’t move,” she instructed him sensually.
Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she impaled herself on his rod in one smooth stroke. This time they both cried out in delight as he filled her completely. With a knowing smirk, Akna stood up quickly, releasing him completely. She slowly lowered herself onto him again, but teasingly began to bob over his head only. John groaned.
“You test my patience, woman,” he growled.
“It is my turn,” Akna replied breathlessly as she moved over him with a cruel grin.
John groaned again and grabbed her breasts, taking a tip between his teeth. Akna rewarded him with a series of quick, deep thrusts before drawing in and out slowly. John was about to voice his complaints about her speed, when suddenly he felt her tighten around him—and his comment cut off into a low moan. She gripped him inside her as she slid up and down his length, and the hot friction was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Oh yes, he thought, she was teaching him just as much as he was teaching her.
And then she pulled away again completely, releasing his bobbing member into the cold air. But before he could protest, she spun around and bent over the bench, planting her hands on the stone, and all he could see was the plump peach shape of her bottom and the sweet curve of her waist. When she tilted her hips upward and arched her back just so, John lost all control. He grabbed her hips and thrust into her with wild abandon. Akna threw her head back and cried out as he pounded all his pent-up desire into her body, the sound of their lovemaking loud in the isolated garden. Akna lifted her body and drew his hands to her breasts, cupping her hands over his. He moulded his fingers over her soft mounds, clutching at them fiercely as he filled her over and over again. She leaned back and arched over, turning slightly to meet his lips with hers. One of his hands slid down to her pearl, his thumb working a furious rhythm as he drove into her. Joined at every juncture, they grew more and more frenzied. Then with hoarse groans, they tipped each other over the edge, and John exploded deep within Akna, filling her with liquid heat. His chest heaving, John pulled her into his chest, wrapped his arms around her and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. His member still pulsing within her, his whole body trembled over hers in the aftershocks of their lovemaking. Akna clung to his forearms and leaned back into him, sated and spent.
They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms until they grew cold from their cooling sweat. He slowly withdrew from her with a sigh, and they turned to face each other, eyes wide and wondering. Without a word, they embraced again, their lips locking in a slow, languorous kiss. It took them a long time to dress, and even longer to work up the strength to exit the rose garden. But as they rode back toward the castle, their hearts were light.
Chapter Five
On the night before the Inuit delegation was to depart, King George unveiled an exhibit that had been put together in their honour. A grand hall had been filled with artefacts from the New World, and they were displayed on pedestals around the room. Noblemen and women wandered about, pointing at and cooing over various things. The Inuit delegates politely toured the display, nodding when each item was presented to them.
But when Akna arrived with her head held high and her hand threaded through the crook of Sir John Frederick’s arm, all eyes were on them. She was dressed in the blue-and-silver silk dress that John had had made for her, and she radiated the confidence and regal air of a Northern princess. As they walked across the room arm in arm to join the delegation, they left a chorus of whispers in their wake, some admiring and others jealous. The pair ignored them all. They paused to curtsy and bow before the king, who greeted them warmly.
“Welcome,” King George boomed proudly. “Please enjoy this last gift.”
Akna inclined her head politely and turned to survey the exhibit. Her smile was stiff, but she relaxed as John gave her hand a squeeze and led her away. The pieces that had been put on display were not particularly interesting to her, as each were simple tools or items for everyday use: a tobacco pipe, a sealskin coat, a hunting spear. But when she saw how the aristocrats looked at each item with giggles and puzzlement, she understood. This was a museum, and she was part of the display.
Over the past week, John and Akna had felt a chasm grow between them. Neither felt inclined to address Akna’s impending departure, each unsure of how to broach the topic. For her part, Akna wondered if there was any way to prolong her time with John, to see if there was any possibility of lasting love between them. They had spent much time together, and yet she still wasn’t sure if he truly reciprocated her feelings. It was obvious that he was attracted to her; it was even obvious that he cared for her deeply—but did he care enough?
Meanwhile, John did not want to scare the young woman away. More than just lust and affection was budding in his heart, but he’d told her too much of his past life, and he feared that she would never believe him when he made his feelings clear to her. He wanted her to stay—or he wanted to go back with her to see the New World through her eyes. But she, too, had guarded her true intentions well; perhaps he was just a passing fling to her.
A commotion at one end of the hall drew Akna’s attention. A group of nobles were crowded around a corner of the room, their awestruck gasps loud in the echoing hall. Raising her brows at John, they made their way over, both curious at what could have garnered so much attention. As they drew near, the sounds of growling and snapping jaws became clear. Alarmed, Akna pushed forward quickly, skipping ahead of John. When she reached the front of the crowd, she stopped dead still, her jaw dropping and her eyes filling with angry tears.
Three arctic wolves paced the length of a small cage, their teeth bared in anger and fear.
But these were not the majestic wolves she had grown accustomed to seeing against the horizon. No, these wolves were half-starved, their white fur mottled and patchy, and spittle was frothing at their dark gums. They snarled and snapped at their audience, their regal beauty reduced to a shadow of what it had once been.
They were nothing more than caged beasts, a cheap thrill for bored aristocrats.
Akna’s stomach felt like lead. Just like these poor animals, she was on display—a novelty to be admired. They might not have caged her with steel, but they had caged her nonetheless with their condescension. Would these people ever stop, she wondered to herself in a daze. Would they ever be able to see others as equals and not as beasts to be tamed and civilised?
It was an icy, self-satisfied voice that finally broke her out of her angry haze.
“Appropriate, don’t you think?” Lady Georgina Leake said snidely, coming alongside her. “All savages should be caged in such a way.”
The fog clouding Akna’s mind evaporated, her rage sharpening into a fine point. She turned hard, furious eyes on the British noblewoman, who unconsciously stepped back from the force of Akna’s gaze.
“And you would know of savages, Lady Leake,” Akna countered, her tone bladed. “I understand you to be quite the beast yourself.”
Georgina flicked open her fan and hid her snarl behind its fine pleats.
“You’re one to talk,” she retorted. “I hear you like to entertain men like a dog in heat.”
Akna’s fury grew as cold and sharp as ice, and she stepped forward menacingly with balled fists. Suddenly she felt a large hand clamp on to her forearm and another on her slim waist. She turned to see that John had caught up with her, and his protective stance and furious eyes spoke volumes.
“You have gone too far
, Lady Leake,” he warned, his voice dark with anger.
“Not far enough, apparently,” she said, looking down her nose at the way John held Akna’s arm. “You just couldn’t keep yourself from the filth, could you, John?”
“How dare you speak to either of us. I promise that you won’t go unpunished for your despicable—”
Akna spun away, her feet carrying her across the hall even as she heard John’s promise of retribution in the distance. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, her mind awhirl. Her throat had closed up in anger, so she grabbed the first goblet she could find and downed its contents in one gulp. Then she reached for another. As she swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the sweet substance, she felt her belly grow warm and her vision grow fuzzy. How odd, she thought as she shakily set her third goblet down. A strange fire crept from the pit of her stomach to her chest, and she shook her head, trying to clear her eyes and focus her vision. Her limbs felt loose…too loose, and she suddenly felt the desperate urge to sit down—or perhaps to erupt into riotous laughter. In the end, she did both—but not completely on purpose. Her legs seemed to give out, and she briefly remembered laughing before her vision darkened.
From the other side of the room, John began to curse profusely. He watched as Akna swayed dangerously, her eyes rolling back. He sprinted across the hall just in time to catch her falling body across his outstretched arms. He pulled her up, lifting her whole body to rest against his chest. One sniff confirmed his suspicions. Akna had just unknowingly downed three goblets of sweet wine—and they had already taken a toll on the unsuspecting princess. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and she giggled incoherently.
Cursing wine and goblets and museums and women, John swept Akna into his arms and marched smartly out of the hall before anyone else noticed her intoxication. He swept through the corridors, imperiously staring down anyone who even glanced their way. Finally he arrived at his chambers. He pushed his way past the doors and then kicked them shut behind him. He was now completely alone with a drunken woman—not that it was his first time in such a situation, but it was the first time it was not filled with mutually lewd thoughts. He let Akna slide down the length of his body until her toes touched the floor. She tittered and spun around, her arms wide.
“John,” she cooed drunkenly. “Come with me!”
“Where?” he grunted crankily as he reached down to unlace his shoes.
“To where we can be free!”
Akna laughed loudly and threw her arms around his neck.
“You are not yourself,” John cautioned her. “Let me have water drawn for a bath, and I will leave you to relax.”
And sober up, he added to himself.
“No,” Akna said with an uncharacteristic pout, tugging on his sleeve. “Don’t leave.”
She pressed into him with a sensual smile. Her bosom pushed up against his chest, eliciting a groan from him despite his better senses.
“Please, Akna,” John repeated. “You are not yourself.”
“No, I am not,” she said, suddenly straightening. “I am too hot.”
“What?”
“Yes,” she declared, beginning to tug uselessly at her dress. “This thing is too tight, and too hot, and— Oh! I just want it off!”
Akna pulled at her stays, clumsily trying to shed the restrictive bodice. Huffing in frustration, she turned pleading, childlike eyes on John. She turned and presented him with her back.
“Help me?”
Her voice was small and much too endearing. With a sigh, John began to jerk methodically at the corset laces, loosening the bodice. Akna exhaled and shimmied out of the bodice and silk skirts, letting them pool on the floor at her feet. Then she shivered and wrapped her arms around her torso. She turned back to John, mild confusion writ on her beautiful face.
“Now I am too cold.”
John spared one longing look at his guest. She was dressed only in her undergarments, a simple cotton shift. Her curves and crevices were clearly visible through the translucent material, and he stifled another frustrated groan. With a long sigh, he forced himself to turn away and head for the low-burning fireplace. With an iron poker and a fresh log, he carefully stoked the flames into a gentle roar. The heat flared and spread through the room.
“Much better.”
John felt Akna approach him from behind, her breasts to his back and her arms encircling his waist. She clasped her hands and placed her lips at his ear.
“But I’m still cold,” she whispered, her moist breath fanning over his ear. “Can’t you warm me some more?”
John turned in her embrace, tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear before cupping her smooth cheeks with both hands. He studied her hooded eyes, her long lashes and her pouting lips carefully. Her gaze, though sultry and willing, was still slightly unfocused. He brushed a thumb gently over her lips.
“You are drunk, my lady,” he pronounced gently. “And you are not yourself. Perhaps you should sleep.”
“But I don’t want to sleep,” Akna protested. “There is so little time, and I need to know…”
She began to trace lazy circles over his jawbone with her fingertips.
“Know what?”
But Akna did not answer. Rising to her toes, she slowly drew the tip of her tongue over his chin and then tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth. His question forgotten, John’s heart began to thud quickly in his chest as Akna pulled him down into a slow kiss. His loins began to ache as she pulled his hands down to her hips and guided them over her most sensual curves.
“Do you want to sleep?” she purred.
“No,” he admitted with a groan. “But—”
“Well, I definitely am not interested in sleep right now,” Akna told him with a seductive twist of her hips. “But I do want you to carry me over to your bed, throw me onto your—”
Suddenly, John lifted her in his arms. He marched over to the bed and tossed her, giggling, onto the mattress. Looking down at her prone form with lustful eyes, he began to loosen his tie, tug at this jacket and shirt and unbutton his trousers. After shedding most of his clothing, he crawled over her on all fours, caging her with his muscular limbs.
“Now what?” he asked, his voice a purr.
Akna smiled playfully and tugged at the hem of her shift.
“This thing,” she said, batting her eyes. “It offends me.”
John sank lower and took the hem of her undergarment between his teeth. He began to tug the thin material upward, the stubble on his chin grazing her sensitive flesh and eliciting round after round of girlish giggles. When he had pushed the slip over her hips, John settled down at her side, wrapping one strong arm around her shoulders and pulling her body to his. His lips captured hers, and he engaged her in a passionate kiss as his other hand slid past her shift and up her bare skin. With a sudden jerk, he tore the shift from her body and began to nip and nibble at her heated flesh. Akna moaned and arched into him. He anchored her more tightly to himself and let his long fingers rove lower. He spread her thighs gently and then pushed two fingers into her ready sex, slowly rubbing and massaging her into a shuddering peak. Akna mewled and twisted against his muscular frame as he coaxed her body into release, his sharp eyes taking in her every reaction. When she finally slumped over his shoulders, he gathered her close to his side and pulled his coverlet over them both. Gazing down at her slightly trembling form, he could clearly see that she was still heady with wine, though her body was alert with sensual tension. His groin ached for release, but he would not take her selfishly while she lay intoxicated in his bed.
“What about—” she whispered, already drowsy.
“Shh,” he hushed her, pressing his lips to her brow. “You need to sleep the liquor off.”
“John?” she began to ask, her voice sweetly childlike.
“Sleep now, my dear.”
“How dear?”
“What?”
“How dear am I to you?”
“As dear as any could be?”
<
br /> “Dear enough to leave England for?”
“What is this talk?” John murmured, nuzzling her gently. “Sleep now, my sweet.”
“Would you sail West?” Akna asked drowsily, curling up against him like a sleepy kitten. “Sail with me?”
He watched as her lashes fluttered closed. He watched as her jaw relaxed and her head nestled into his neck. He watched as her breathing lengthened and deepened into sleep. Her words were garbled but he thought he caught the gist—and he dared wonder if her feelings were true or if it had been the alcohol talking. Could she want him for longer? Could she possibly be asking him to go back with her to the New World? He pressed a kiss to her smooth brow. He was not yet ready for this adventure to end. When she woke, he would ask her if he could accompany their delegation back the Labrador. His resolve grew firm; he would lay his cards on the table and risk it. Finally, he, too, allowed his eyes to close, gathering her into him for a short rest.
The room was dark and the firelight was low when Akna blearily opened her eyes. She shifted slightly, and warm blankets twisted around her bare legs. She was safely cocooned on a soft mattress…with a man’s bare, muscular arms twined around her naked body. She sat up with a start and stared down at her bed partner. She wondered if he had ever considered visiting her homeland—but as a guest and not a warrior. Her eyes traced the stubbly line of his jaw. No, she thought, perhaps she needed another course of action. She wanted to invite him to go back with her…but not yet. First, she wanted to see more of his land—with him. She wanted to test his affection for her, to see if it would last while he showed her around his homeland. And also, she wanted to see Britain through his eyes. There was so much she might have misunderstood and so much she had yet to see if she wanted to know who he really was. And would he be happy to know that she was staying longer? Or angry that she was not departing as planned so he could move on to his next conquest? A plan formed in her mind as she watched him sleep.
